


The Five Times Peter Parker Saved Tony Stark(And The One Time Tony Saved Peter)

by dxntdxdrxgs



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Night Terrors, Other, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, ig it could be peter x tony if u squint real hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dxntdxdrxgs/pseuds/dxntdxdrxgs
Summary: Tony has a lot of baggage. Lucky for him, Peter is always conveniently there to swoop in and save the day.But sometimes being the hero can be stressful.





	The Five Times Peter Parker Saved Tony Stark(And The One Time Tony Saved Peter)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smileyiero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileyiero/gifts).



> hi this is cute ur welcome duzz

The first time Peter felt at home in Tony Stark's car, he felt the jitters subside and subsequently feared that, after seeing the pale look on his mentor's face, he might've transferred them to the billionaire. Because, really, Tony Stark looked pale as a sheet and felt a bit like one as he slumped over onto the boy's shoulder. And Peter was briefly terrified that he'd be holding another dead body in his arms, but instead Mr. Stark just gently clutched his chest and took deep breaths. 

"No surgery is perfect," he'd supplied at Peter's concern. Although Peter was pretty certain that chest pains were more than a minor mishap when concerning reconstructive heart surgery, he didn't pry too much and instead laid a cool hand over the older man's forehead. 

"You're sweating, Mr. Stark," Peter said unsteadily, hoisting the man up into a sitting position. "Mr. Stark?" 

"Yeah, kid, I'm fine. This is to be expected," he grunted, leaning so that his forehead rested against Peter's somewhat bony shoulder. The teen stiffened. 

"You're not gonna, like, keel over on me, are you?" 

Mr. Stark sensed the boy's distress and laid a shaky hand on his thigh, shaking his head against his body. With that confirmation, Peter wrapped an arm around the genius, running his fingers through the man's hair. "Where's it hurt?" 

Mr. Stark pointed to the middle of his chest, "bruising, scar tissue, all fun stuff." 

"Like a cocktail of nasty," Peter smiled, earning a grunt of a laugh in response. He swelled with pride briefly, though it was short lived as the grunt morphed into a groan. "Hey, Happy? How long till we get to the compound?" 

"Ten minutes." 

Peter shifted so he could grab his phone, texting Aunt May that he'd be staying late to help Mr. Stark on some new tech. Maybe they would if he could get the man to stop hurting. But right now, the man lurched over toward the floorboard and dry heaved briefly. 

"Stomach," Mr. Stark whined, voice going hoarse with strain as he gagged again. Peter was mapping his heartbeat with his hearing. Nothing irregular... Yet. 

"You realize these are all symptoms of heart attack," Peter sputtered out, earning himself a half-hearted glare. 

"It's not, doc said this would happen." 

"Why can't she fix it?" Peter asked childishly, cradling Mr. Stark's head as he brought him back into a sitting position. 

"The procedure is too new, but don't worry, it's under—" he wretched in Peter's direction, but the boy didn't flinch, instead just tightening his hold on the father figure, "—control..." 

"Right," Peter nodded, brushing the older's hair away, "anyway, I'll take care of you tonight, so don't worry. Should I call anyone? Rhodey?" 

"No," Mr. Stark rolled his eyes as his head lolled back onto Peter's shoulder, "and you have school tomorrow, you are most certainly not staying to take care of me. There's no need." 

"With all due respect, Mr. Stark, I'm not too sure you can stand right now." 

As they pulled around to the front steps, Mr. Stark slid out first, with the help of Happy and Peter, who each held one of his arms. Peter waved Happy off, easily lifting the man in his arms. He didn't miss the comment Mr. Stark made about his oh-so-fragile masculinity, but he made a command decision to ignore it, promptly kicking the door open and making his way through the compound until he found Tony's room. 

"Feels so empty now," the billionaire mumbled, making Peter's stomach sink a bit. 

"I'm here now, Mr. Stark," he grinned, "I'll skip school tomorrow, pick my stuff up from Ned. I'm not goin' anywhere." 

For once, Mr. Stark didn't argue as he was led to a comfortable bed and shed his pants and shoes (with some embarrassed help from a rather flustered teen. Who the hell wants to take their mentor's pants off?) 

"Sleep tight!" Peter quipped cheerily, hopping off to explore the compound for a while before he fell asleep. 

When he checked on Mr. Stark a few hours later, all he was met with was soft snores. 

 

________________________

 

Peter wasn't sure why he was stuck in the compound, staring at the internal pudding contest going on between Mr. Rogers and Mr. Stark, but he was there, leaned back in his chair with a bewildered look on his face. He gingerly raised his hand and cleared his throat, "if I may—" 

"No!" both men shouted, making him jump slightly in his seat, hot shame brushing over his cheeks. 

The argument ended with Mr. Rogers slamming his fist down and practically running out, and Peter had about three seconds to duck before a chair went flying across the room. He timidly raised his eyes over the table, peering up at Mr. Stark. A teary-eyed Mr. Stark who was clutching his chest and seemingly struggling to breathe. Peter immediately jumped into action, sliding across the glass tabletop to his mentor's side. 

"Hey," he whispered gently, putting his hands on Mr. Stark's shoulders, "I need you to take some deep breaths for me." 

He listened closely for a second. Mr. Stark's heartbeat was erratic but not irregular, and Peter immediately recognized it as a panic attack. He removed his hands from Mr. Stark, squatting so that they could look into each other's eyes. He brought his hand to rest against his chest, taking a deep and slow breath, watching as the older man parroted his action. 

"There," Peter said slowly, "breathe for me, okay? We can talk about Mr. Rogers and everything later." 

At that, Mr. Stark's heart rate skyrocketed. 

"O-Or not!" Peter cried, fumbling to take hold of Mr. Stark's hand again, "it's okay!" 

"Killed my mom," he gasped out, "and he has the nerve to beg for the bastard's pardon..." 

Peter felt his heart clench, "well, Steve is just looking out for his friend, the way you look out for Rhodey. If Rhodes was brainwashed and forced to kill Steve's mom, would you let Steve hurt him?" 

Mr. Stark's heart slowed a bit and his eyes flicked back up to Peter's. 

"Anyone ever told you you're a genius?" 

Peter blushed and looked down, "no one worth mentioning." 

"Well, you are," Mr. Stark rasped, still trying to regain full control of himself. "I mean it." 

"Learned it from the best." 

________________________

 

Mr. Stark woke up screaming, startling both Peter and F.R.I.D.A.Y. into action as the computer began spouting vital signs to the arachnid as he sprinted out of the lab toward the billionaire's room. He didn't knock, instead throwing the door open to find Tony writhing around and wailing. 

"Report?" Peter huffed, stepping slowly closer to the bed. 

"It appears Mr. Stark is suffering from a night terror." 

"Nightmare?" 

"No," F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted, "night terror. He won't be easily woken." 

Peter groaned and prepared himself, swinging up onto the bed to straddle the struggling man. He pinned his arms down, using his bone crushing strength to keep him in place. "Mr. Stark, wake up, it's a dream." 

The man beneath him let out a pitiful cry that sounded far younger than Peter thought possible, muttering about his mom and dad... About Howard being drunk, Howard calling him this and that. Peter thought he was gonna throw up. He hated seeing Mr. Stark this vulnerable. 

"Wake up!" he pleaded, shaking him roughly, "Tony! Fuckin' wake up!" 

A swift slap across the face finally jolted him up, making him shoot into a sitting position as he knocked heads with Peter. The kid rolled off him and winced, looking back. 

"Are you awake...?" 

"What happened—? Did I— are you okay?" Mr. Stark was staring at Peter, mirroring the concern of the younger boy. 

"You're the one who was terrified," Peter shot back, slinking up to pull up a chair beside Tony's bed. "What were you dreaming about?" 

"I... I think it was The Winter Soldier, he was killing mom and— he was gonna get me too, and Steve didn't stop him, and fuck—" 

"Breathe," Peter soothed, laying his palm on Mr. Stark's chest to gently lay him back in his covers. "I'll be right here. Nothing can get you, I'll keep watch. Anything happens in this entire compound, Spider-man will be on it!" 

To Peter's surprise, the man seemed to relax a lot at that. He didn't fight Peter like usual and try to force him to bed, which only served to prove his exhaustion. Peter crouched alert in the chair, reaching out to take Tony's hand. 

The kid was still blinking blearily awake when Tony woke up.

________________________

"Mr. Stark! On your right!" 

Peter swung in and slammed his feet into the alien's side, webbing it's corpse to the ground so they'd have it for science purposes once the battle ended. 

"Thanks, kid," Iron Man replied, flying past Peter quickly. It was extremely exhilarating to see your idol in action, he'd found, and the fact that he'd seen the man's more human sides made it better. "Underoos, there's some kids, the underpass." 

"Got it!" Peter eagerly complied with the vague command, swinging down to escort some kids to safety. He didn't like turning his back to the battle because—

A loud crash boomed against the ground and rocked the New York infrastructure to its core, making Peter have to swing up for a better look at the crater. An alien was perched over Mr. Stark, having ripped his mask off and pointing a gun in his face. Peter immediately swung into action, fighting effortlessly (lies) and protecting his mentor. 

When the dust cleared, the teen stumbled back and instructed Mr. Stark to hang onto him. 

"Kid, this suit weighs a hell of a lot..." 

Peter thought back to his last fight with Vulture and scoffed, "I've lifted heavier." 

They made it back to the compound in one piece, Peter denying treatment from the on-staff doctors until he was 100% certain that Tony was taken care of. Only then would he allow himself to be bandaged up. 

The nurses cooed over him, making his face hot with embarrassment every time Mr. Stark winked at him over it. 

________________________

The second time Tony's chest acted up was at an important event, many business men pattering about with their expensive clothes and expensive ideas. Peter watched Tony with careful eyes, the prospect of being professional and on a first name basis looming over his head the whole time; in other words, don't be a creep. 

That was kinda hard to do once he saw the way his face screwed up in obvious pain. Someone was about to point it out, Peter knew it, and he also knew what that might do for Tony's brand. Not only that, but his ego, something that had so recently been drug through the mud that Peter was sure it was still sore. So he did the only thing he could think of. 

Peter caused a scene. 

He stood and knocked over his chair, raising his glass triumphantly and giving Tony a look that was a mix of "forgive me" and "run." 

"I have an announcement!" Peter bellowed, his stomach twisting in knots. Was he about to do this just so Tony could slip away? Yes. When he saw the relief flood his face as Happy escorted him to the edge of the room, he ruled that yes, this was all worth it. "I'm gay!" 

The whole room stilled and Peter shit himself at least three times over before some business man and his husband began to whoop and cheer. After which, the entirety of the room began to commend Peter for his bravery, all the while Peter shit himself at least another three times, maybe four. 

He thanked god when it ended, though, escaping to the compound to find that Tony was waiting up for him with a fond smile on his face. Peter returned it and went about fixing himself a cup of coffee. 

"I'm feeling much better now," Tony sighed, standing on somewhat wobbly legs as he took a seat at the bar, watching his protege work, "you didn't have to do that for me." 

"I know," Peter said softly, "I never do anything for you because I have to, I do it because I want to. Because I care, Mr— um, Tony. I care because you care about me, um, I think? I think you do, kinda, anyway, at least..." 

Tony got up and wrapped his son in a warm hug. 

________________________

Peter took a stuttering breath as he was shoved to the lockers. His announcement at the Gala had gotten around to the school and by now everyone had the video. And he would never, ever, hear the end of it. It wasn't necessarily because he was gay, but because it was so embarrassingly Peter, and for some reason these kids loved to shame him for being himself. 

MJ had put Flash and his bitches in place a few times, and Ned had practically pissed himself after standing up for Peter once, but the funny thing is, Peter felt too weak and drained to do it for himself. It's not like he could fight back. 

"What're you gonna do about it, huh?" 

Flash grabbed the side of his face and forced it into the cold metal, making Peter gasp and try to shove out of his way. "Let me go!" 

Hits were exchanged (not really, more dealt than anything) and Peter left with a black eye and a bloody nose, cuts all over the side of his face from the locker and pain deep in his bones. He wondered why this hurt so bad, considering that Flash didn't have jack shit in the way of superpowers. Maybe his emotional wellbeing tied directly into the physicality of it all. 

He gently eased into Tony's brash car, crashing to nap in the backseat as Happy drove him to the compound. When he woke up, his heart sunk to realize that not a damn thing on him had healed on his way upstate. Okay, so, maybe it wasn't noticeable? 

"What the hell?" 

Definitely noticeable. 

He ducked his head away from Tony as he entered, making a B-line for the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee so he could stay alert while he and Tony worked. "It's nothing, some kids at school saw the video of me at the Gala, haven't... Haven't let me hear the end of it." 

Peter felt a gentle hand press into his cheek and he jumped, dropping a glass mug in the process. The hurt look that crossed Tony's face choked him up and he pulled away, stepping on glass in the process and practically falling flat on his ass. He let out a weak hiccup as Tony instructed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to have a bot bring him a first-aid kit. 

"Peter," Tony said gently, lifting the kid's foot to inspect it. 

"I can't fight back! I can't do it, I'll— I'll hurt them and—" 

"Peter," Tony grabbed his face and blinked at him, "no one will ever blame you for not fighting back. Not me, not Happy, and certainly not Aunt May. We love you more than words could ever describe. You're allowed to ask for help sometimes." 

"B-But you're dealing with so much," Peter cried, sniffling pitifully as Tony opened the newly acquired kit. He removed the tweezers and set about plucking the glass from the boy's foot. "I'm not as important, my high school problems are—" 

"No lesser than my big, sad, adult coke-can problems," Tony joked, kind eyes locking with Peter's. "You can always come to me, okay? Always." 

He bandaged Peter's foot and had another bot cleaning the mess up, moving to dab at his cuts and fix his face up a bit. Peter took to leaning against Tony, tiredly sniffling with a glazed over look on his face. "I'm sorry. How are you feeling?" 

"Oh no," Tony snickered, "today is about you. We're having a long talk about feelings and not mine. You need a break." 

Peter yawned and nodded lazily, letting Tony pick him up and tuck him into a fuzzy blanket on the couch. And if he played it up a little bit because he liked Tony fawning over him, well, he'd never admit it.


End file.
